On to brighter things...

So gals and guys, thanks for all your mail and encouragement, please keep it coming, it keeps your dispirited Suzy Q going!


I arranged for the removal of the offending branches mentioned in my last blog entry, thinking that not having them staring me in the face every day would help me feel better, but the comments from the gardening team who were twice as outraged and amazed as I was just left the unhappiness at this injustice simmering under the surface. Well, that's just my way of trying to say it mildly. Their unequal indignation at this violation of my home and rights simply added more fuel to my outraged fire. Anyway, as they say, this too shall pass...

On a brighter note, the next Big Event is almost upon us. Miss Suzy Q No 2's matric dance is on the final countdown now, and we are approaching fever pitch. This was heightened by our second trip to our newfound friend, the dress designer in Simonstown. Nothing like a lovely sea view to calm the soul, and then, omigosh, to see that the rough sketch is already a fully made creation, awaiting only final adjustments for the hem and anything else minor. I had feared umpteen fittings and untold dramas, but this has been the best luck we've had in a while. It's a gorgeous emerald green, the fabric was fortunately included in the very reasonable quotation, and looks exquisite. There were a few nervous moments as we fiddled behind the curtain trying to get all the straps on correctly, and our designer hovered outside like an expectant father. WELL, our little baby emerged like Cinderella going to the ball, utterly and absolutely transformed from the sweaty schoolgirl she was when she arrived. Whilst she was never an ugly duckling, she is undoubtedly an elegant, grown up swan in that stunning gown. Oh, if I'd ever looked that good, all slender limbs and unlined skin, why didn't I realize it!?

I can't say who was more relieved when we emerged all smiles from behind the curtain, and we were all beaming by the time we left. She is so thrilled and excited, and of course pictures were on the networks before we left, getting rounds of applause from her friends everywhere. (Needless to say, they look at me as if I have two heads when I tell them that when I was their age, if one was lucky enough to have access to a camera, photos were a luxury, and we had to wait for at least a week to seem them developed after we'd dropped the spool off at the pharmacy.) Everything is so instant these days

We decided upon which shoes she should wear, well should I say Miss SQ2 and her new best friend did ("wear these darling, they are so much in the moment") and she did a few twirls and was utterly enchanting with her youth and excitement bubbling over. What a joy to behold, and what a thrill to be able to provide her with this special dress for her Big Night.

But nobody knows the answer to the Big Question...who is her Prince Charming??

You can choose your friends but you sure as hell can't choose your neighbours!

As in life, dear friends, after all the joy and celebrations in our home, a slight sadness has set in, which I feel I ought to tell you about, if only to get it off my chest. Stop now if you don't want to hear my sorry saga, please feel free to do so, but maybe something like has also happened to you somewhere along the way...

I was pottering around the garden on Sunday morning, when I noticed a few broken branches on one of our wild olive trees, which we planted against our boundary wall a) in keeping with our Provencal style house and perhaps more importantly b) to eventually provide privacy between us and our rather unpleasant neighbours. How did I know they were unpleasant from the start you may well ask? Well, it wasn't just from the rough as bear's guts tone of their voices or the unpleasant manners of their children (obviously inherited) or the fact that they stood up at the first Homeowners meeting, having greeted us a neighbours, then publicly complaining about the colour of our window frames. (Granted it was a mistake, but public humiliation from Judas!) It was more specifically that they reneged on their promise to pay for their side of the boundary wall, which we even had plastered by our builder at their request. They were very tough times for us financially, so it hurt all the more watching tons of marble and travetine being carted into their palatial but garish Neo Gothic/mock Georgian/Tuscan monstrosity. You know the one when you pass it, painted that boring brown colour, which a kind friend placated me by telling me it was called "Sharkey" after it's owner (a cross between s**t and khaki) with it's oversized window sporting a sandblasted version of the Venus de Milo in the triple volume vestibule. Though it still burns, it truly does, even after ten years, and the wall continues to stand, despite "not being up to their building standards" I console myself that it is they who duck into the next aisle in the supermarket if they see me, or scrabble intently for their cellphones if we pass each other outside. 

But then, I discovered to my horror, that all our wild olives had been inexpertly hacked. So even though there had been no discussion between us at all, nor any mention or even a cowardly note in our letterbox regarding our trees hanging over our wall (they actually grow pretty straight and tall which is why we considerately planted them) they took it upon themselves, late one Saturday, to get a ladder and hack off the branches and chuck them over our wall. And I mean OUR wall. I am shocked. I am outraged. I am aggrieved. I am angry. But I am not really all that surprized. What else could you expect from scumbags like that?

 I feel as if an act of aggression has taken place and I want to shake a stick at them and lash out, if not shout out about their lack of courage, decency and lineage. I want to get a can of spray paint and vandalize the wall (my wall.) I want to pour weed poison on the plants on their verge when I walk past.   I want to bludgeon their beastly little piece of canine excrement into a pulp should he ever rush at our Rex and go for this throat again. Fortunately our Rex slipped free from me the last time this happened and showed him, as a dog who'd grown up on the streets, who was boss, Big Time. I want to scatter broken shards of glass across their driveway and place piano wire strategically across their gateway. This is alarming to me, who wouldn't harm a fly nor scream at a flea. But where would it end? Me throwing things over their wall? Them throwing them back? Insults shouted in the street? Them throwing poisoned meat for Rex? Bad enough that I have to know that they exist in such close proximity to me, worse to get deeper into a petty war over the wall. No, that's their style, for want of a better word.

So no girls and guys, I am just going to have to bite the bullet, pay for the removal of the branches (there really aren't that many, it's the principle of the matter that irks me) and hope that a decent tree surgeon can doctor the trees I purchased as babies when I could ill afford them, to screen such ghastly vermin from my life. 

And hope that they've made greater, meaner enemies than me who will lay the Rattex in my stead...

Suzy Q meets her Waterloo!

Hello again, dear friends, my faithful fans and occasional followers, and welcome back! It's been longer than I ever intended to stay away, as I do enjoy writing for you, so please do forgive me, but the organization of our fabulous wedding anniversary party, (I did warn you that that might happen) took so much time and effort. What I wasn't prepared for was the aftermath, cleaning up, returning of goods, bottles (empties aplenty) and glasses and the fun of spending time with good friends kind enough to visit us for the occasion, not to mention the rest of the freeloaders (you know who you are) who kept coming back, determined to do the final damage to the party supplies. For once in my life, I think I can safely say I'm all partied out, and am finally getting our lives back to normality (whatever that might be!?)

But let me tell you how wonderful our day was. It was everything we could have hoped for and more, to have our home filled to overflowing with friends, one dear family member, fabulous food, flowers, wonderful wines, love, laughter and the dreamy music of a great saxophonist, who just got better and better the more red wine he imbibed. It really was a dream come true, as we haven't even wet the roof of this house in ten years, having been too broke after getting it tiled. So a very happy day it was for us as it all worked well, and I think and hope for our guests too. All the months of planning, organizing, and getting our house spruced up paid off. The curtains were clean (I hope you all noticed after such a mammoth effort) the garden fluffed and replanted here and there, trees shaped, window frames painted, we now boast a number on our garden wall (not bad after ten years) and we had fresh flowers everywhere in place of the usual clutter. Now how do I get it to stay that way?? 


The renewal of our vows was a deeply meaningful ceremony for me, as I looked into the eyes of the man I love, with our two beautiful daughters and my brother at our sides and our friends as witnesses, and thought back on all the events, joyful and otherwise which had marked our marriage of 20 years, and set myself up for another round with gratitude and optimism. The party got off to a great start with flutes of local bubbly which never seemed to stop coming. The food (which I barely got to taste having spent so much time planning, but that's the nature of the day) exceeded our expectations and friends are still raving about it, the black clouds and the rain which had poured the previous night abated, and we all, I hope, enjoyed a right royal day. I was so sorry when people went away, and was grateful for the hard core of bittereinders who lasted until nearly midnight. Suzy Q last seen serving soup and crackers at 11pm before falling happily into the arms of her longstanding and long suffering husband. But I can see why the honeymoon was invented.

One guilty confession however. The morning after, for the very first time in 16 years, the young Misses Suzy Q, of whom I was so very, very proud on the day, went to school and campus with tuck money instead of a packed lunch. But I still made the early morning Pilates class - too much at stake! 

Just back, but in great haste!

Happy days are here again! My beloved, but aged MacBook is back from ihospital, having cost nearly as much as a boob job, only please don't mention this to Mr Suzy Q as he thinks that this baby should be replaced with a better priced, but totally boring laptop. Hey dude, where's the loyalty here? You're talking about my best bud, but Rex. It would be like losing my best friend, as this mac houses so many memories, (learning to use a computer at my advanced age!!) as well as my photos, music and correspondence, scribblings, plus the historic beginnings of this blog. Besides, though it may be dated like me, nothing beats it's sleek and sexy design. No way I say!! The interesting thing is how dependent I am on my little mac, even though I am known as something of a luddite. I couldn't email, so I had to phone friends, couldn't read the papers so am clueless about what's been happening in the world, couldn't do any banking, and even worse, I couldn't write for you. I haven't had much time to test out the upgrade of my operating system, but what little I've done seems to be running smoothly and I've even managed to reload some of those pictures on older posts, so please do go back for a smile. The ones I haven't managed (you won't believe that it is a bit of a mission) I'll try to do after the Big Day. Promise you'll forgive me please girls? And is it true we even have a few men following us, trying to delve deep into the secrets of the middle aged female psyche!? Well thanks for your time guys, and I wish you much luck!!

Welcome back mac!

And in that vein, I must apologize in advance as it seems unlikely that I'll have much time to write, yet alone breathe during the forthcoming week, as our 20th wedding anniversary party, which has grown like Topsy, has become all consuming. At least I'll be well practised for the Misses Suzy Q's weddings, if they ever decide to get married, as it seems to be a dying trend, at least in our families. Millions of gorgeous nephews and nieces and not a whiff of a free party, hence our big celebration. This time of planning, preparation, and haemmoraghing vast sums of money, whilst exhausting, is also very exciting, as I'm meeting so many lovely people along the way in the line of flowers, fabrics, food, music and of course fine wines. When the dust has settled, I'll share these people and experiences with you. It is of course, also a time for reflection, and hence an emotional time, (whatever gave you the impression that Suzy Q was prone to shedding soppy tears?) as I consider the gift of marriage to a wonderful man, who is a fantastic husband and father, for our fidelity and for the extra gifts of two beautiful, happy, healthy children, whom it has been my greatest privilege and pleasure to raise. Needless to say, my thoughts are with much loved people, departed parents and friends, beloved siblings, in-laws, nieces and nephews and friends who will not be with us on this happy day. Please if you will, pause to share a prayer with us at 11.30 am on Wednesday 29th February 2012 and I promise I'll be thinking of you too.


But to all the rest of ya who are making a great effort to be with us in the middle of the day in the middle of the week, gamely forgoing work or the school run, thank you! I'm really looking forward to renewing our vows and celebrating the day away, so I  hope it's going to be an enjoyable a day for you too.

Suzy Q signing off for a short while, but I'll send you a postcard! 


Mwaah... xx 

Time to chill.

Firstly, my thanks to you dear friends and followers, for such positive feedback on the blog. Wow, I can't tell you what a thrill it is to know that you are actually taking the time to read what I write.


Secondly, my apologies for not being that regular a writer of late, and also for the technical hitches with the pics.  It causes me no end of frustration when I have gone to some trouble to source appropriate or amusing pics for you, only to find they turn into question marks on the blog. Could it be me, or the fact that my old mac is nearly as old as me, and things start going wrong, but I'm banging my head against the wall and nearly giving up. Poor old Suzy Q must have the Sunday Night Blues having struggled so hard to redo all that work only to discover that it has disappeared again, when she has so much else to do, boo hoo!!


Not all doom and gloom though, I just don't want to disappoint you. We are still in the throes of trying to tidy up our home in anticipation of the The Big Party we are hosting to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary at the end of the month. Very exciting, but equally exhausting and just a tiny bit nerve wracking, considering that we had a very small wedding. Watch this space...


So the good news is that we have returned to the tidal pool at St James, which is just the perfect place to chill, literally, when current stresses become a bit overwhelming. Happily, the cleaners are back, and as autumn approaches the beach becomes less crowded, so we can throw ourselves into the pool with gay abandon. As it is now too difficult to get there before the school run, we pop down in the evening. It was with great delight that I watched local children having swimming lessons there - what a beautiful place to learn to swim!

We had the pleasure of the company of the daughter of a very dear old friend of mine from upcountry this weekend, and I couldn't wait to take her for a swim in salt water, as she is a keen swimmer as well. My gosh, what a delightful morning we had, even though we went a little later than anticipated. There is a slight chill in the water, but it's quite tolerable, and we reconnected with some of our early morning bathers who also seemed to be making a later weekend start. It's great fun shaking hands and becoming acquainted with people from all walks of life - water, the great leveller. We met a young man who's father was a surgeon I remembered from my days of treading the wards of Groote Schuur Hospital (yup, your very own Suzy Q stooped often to empty bedpans) and a goldsmith with a gold tooth, an elderly couple who apparently swim 365 days a year who emerged brandishing a crutch, and happily our newfound friends who had first recommended the tidal pool to us. It was all very gesellig, or, as the Irish would say, "the craic was mighty. 

I consider myself so fortunate to have access to such a beautiful place and the fun of meeting up with friends, old and new, and the chance to chat away at the beginning of the day, and I do hope the dashing doctor's son went back and told his dad how he'd dipped out when he saw Suzy Q looking absolutely fabulous in her one piece black super stretch bathing suit.


Love,


Simply Stunning Suzy Q

Midweek flash fiction for your coffee break.

 Poor old Suzy Q has been under siege from a tribe of inept painters (are there any other kind?) and has also been without water during a heat wave (more of which later) thanks to the council rudely cutting off our supply without warning. So dear readers, please do forgive me for not having written much of late, I'll resume my normal duties as soon as I'm let out of the asylum. But for the moment, a fun little story just to keep you going... 

      
             Hell Hath No Fury

It had been an intense and passionate affair. The taste of forbidden fruits kept us electrically charged and on edge twenty four hours a day. Who knew when our cover would be blown? The risk it bore was a depth charge to our stolen hours of pleasure.

However, all good things must come to an end, and it was naturally he who chickened out first. Summonsed me for a more than sobering cup of coffee to a mediocre, out of the way place. I’d guessed of course, but I reckoned I deserved a better send off. After all, I’d risked my future and career for him, and sacrificed my own feelings of self worth.

“Best say goodbye now, before my wife finds out. I think she’s starting to suspect. I’ve got the kids to think about too.  It’s been a privilege and a pleasure knowing you Suzy Q,” the sanctimonious snake had the cheek to tell me. “But you must understand that I am a family man at heart, and my wife and children will always come first.” It surely hadn’t seemed that way when he was with me, but I allowed him to continue. “I’ve decided to relocate, start afresh somewhere near the sea. We’ll be selling our home soon and moving to the coast to enjoy quality family time together.  It’s been a bit of naughty fun, but I have no doubt you’ll find someone else to mess around with soon. Oh, and Suzy Q, no need to mention this to anyone, ok.”

I waited until his mini mansion came onto the market, and called the agent. She was as unscrupulous and greedy as a hooker, and agreed to see me on the spot, even though she could see it was clearly out of my league when I hopped out of my little Fiat. A funny feeling it gave me, wandering around his family home. I had, after all, only ever been there for the corporate cocktail party he’d hosted, when our eyes had first locked over the champagne flutes frothing with Moet.  It had all the fake paraphernalia of a man living a successful lie.  Silver framed photos of him playing at being the faithful husband and devoted family man took pride of place on his desk. Pictures of him bear hugging famous faces and certificates from a marketing school nobody had ever heard of filled the walls.

The slimy toad thought he could have his fun with me, and then return to his picture perfect family, as if I’d never existed. Scot free. But what he hadn’t reckoned with, was little old me. As the estate agent turned her back to show me the magnificent view from the bedroom balcony, I slipped my g-string, the one with the purple feather that REALLY used to tickle his fancy, under his wife’s pillow.

Chemical Warfare.

I'm a nature loving gal, so I hate chemicals, or so I say. I was hellbent on having natural childbirth, whatever that may be, until forces greater and stronger than that of my body and that of my unborn baby proved to be, and chemical and surgical intervention were required. And now, while I'm not physically chemically dependent on anything, thank heavens, I am definitely reliant on chemicals, and I suspect you may be too.

Take the contents of my cleaning cupboard. There are products aplenty, for each and every kind of stain or surface. Different  detergents for clothes, some for those in the washing machine, others for the hand wash stuff, ditto for the dishes. Tile cleaners for floors, and another for shower surfaces, bleach for dishcloths and thicker bleach for the loo. Intensive stain remover for those hard to remove spots, and creamy Handy Andy for kitchen counters. Mr Suzy Q reckons we are all being held to ransom by Reckitt and Colman, or whoever, and one bucket of soap and water would do all jobs just nicely if it had to. Heavens, didn't we used to wash our camping crockery and cutlery with sand and water back in our hiking heyday?

Then we have chemicals for all those household pests. I have sprays for cockroaches, ants, fish moths and flies, of which we seem to have had a plague this summer, and pellets for things that scurry around in the roof at night. I hate to tell you that I was once held to ransom by a rat which took up residence in our kitchen for an inordinately long time. I emptied all the cupboards, laid down poison and traps, but the wily Willard continued his nocturnal romps, of which there was evidence aplenty every morning. In desperation I called the Council, and they sent in their very best Pied Piper who laid super strength muthi, also to no avail. Eventually it was my own handsome hero who flushed the beastly creature out from behind the dishwasher, and Rex, who fancies himself as a bit of a ratter, took one look at King Rat and fled, leaving Mr Suzy Q to do the dirty, and it was gory. Now there's an image for you, poor old me, the original 50's wife screaming atop her chair as the rat finally met it's fate at the hand's of my husband's hatchet. But I digress. In my gardening shed is a collection of fairly lethal sprays and pellets for aphids, slugs and cutworm. When donning my pool boy's hat (many a hat I have to wear, girls, it's not all lady's lunches as you might suspect) I do a regular assault on our swimming pool with cups full of chlorine, hydrochoric acid, sacks of salt (so good for my biceps) and rather toxic looking algaecide. In this case the cure actually looks worse than the disease.

In our personal capacities, ignoring the chemicals we use to enhance our tresses and faces, we also take tablets to break down the fat we ingest to unclog our arteries and to reduce the blood pressure caused by the daily stresses of life. Children are pretty much raised on a diet of antibiotics to beat the bugs which used to cause little more than common coughs and colds in my childhood, but which now all seem to lead to pneumonia. There are supplements which claim to make children better behaved, more intelligent and thus better performers at school. And let's not start on sportsmen. Teenagers and young women take the contraceptive pill to prevent inconvenient  and unwanted pregnancies, whilst middle aged women take  hormones to stave off depression because they are no longer able to  reproduce. Crazy changing world that it is, it looks to me like chemical warfare is here to stay...